


Tales of Evelyn Trevelyan: One Hundred and Thirty-Six Hams

by insideofadog



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Ham - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5906449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insideofadog/pseuds/insideofadog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn makes poor purchasing decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales of Evelyn Trevelyan: One Hundred and Thirty-Six Hams

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote to try to snap out of my current dry spell. I've made some progress on my longer story, so hopefully I'll be updating soon.

_From Varric Tethras’ story notes, recorded in a journal entitled, “Probably Too Boring”_

So our first trip to Val Royeaux was certainly memorable, what with Cassandra’s ex-boss punching a Reverend Mother in the head, and a Grand Enchanter handing out invitations to a party she apparently wasn’t really throwing.

We’d skulked around the city for a while, although I’ve been there before and I’m still not very impressed–it’s beautiful, but it’s no Kirkwall. Which is probably best for everyone, if I’m being honest.

The Herald was spending the afternoon puttering around a bookstore, and I was the last one of our merry band of miscreants to make my escape. I probably should have stayed and kept an eye on her, I had spotted an acceptably sleazy bar down by the docks, and I was thirsty.

I sidled up to her and gave her my most charming of smiles, which, given the circumstance, was probably overkill, but what can I say? It’s important to give 100% when trying to get out of doing work.

“Herald,” I said, oozing charm, “I need to take care of some…business. Meet me later at the inn when you’ve picked up the supplies.”

“Oh! I, er…” she agreed, and off I went.

I arrived back at the inn later that night and stumbled straight to bed. As always, I woke approximately ten minutes before we were supposed to leave. I rolled out of bed ready to go and was downstairs in four. I was inhaling a quick breakfast when Cassandra stalked by me and shot me an even-more-disgusted-than-usual look.

“What did I do this time, Seeker?” I protested innocently.

“You sent a woman who’s been out in the real world for a year to do our shopping, Varric,” she shot back.

I shrugged.

“What could go wrong?” 

“She barely knows how to use money, Varric. She has no idea how much anything costs, Varric. She bought a hundred hams, _VARRIC_ , and as the Maker is my witness, I’m going to make you eat every single one of them if you don’t fix this problem _right now_!”

She had said my name a disconcerting number of times, and each time was louder than the last. I decided to deal with the problem, if only to get her to quiet down, and also because the Herald was in the corner of the public room looking rather sad.

“Fine, fine,” I soothed the savage Seeker. “I’ll take care of it.”

She made a nasty noise at me and stalked off, and I sauntered over to the Herald. She had a piece of charcoal in one hand and was sketching in a discouraged fashion on a piece of parchment.

“I heard you had a bit of a shopping adventure,” I began.

“Cassandra is upset,” she looked up and sighed. “I was unsure how to estimate the amounts of rations and supplies we might need for our journey. My methodology was…unsound.”

I shot her a look.

“So…you guessed?” I prompted.

“I guessed wrong,” she replied. “I made a list of the supplies I have seen others obtain from the quartermaster at Haven, and then estimated daily consumption of items and multiplied that by the number of days I thought we would be traveling.”

“That…doesn’t sound so bad,” I acknowledged. “What went wrong? And–I’m sorry, but I have to ask–how did we end up with a hundred hams?”

“One hundred and thirty-six,” she corrected mournfully. “That’s all I obtained as far as supplies. Also, I probably overpaid. Additionally, I have expended all of my available funds.”

“Oh,” I blinked. “Did you buy anything else?”

She lifted her charcoal up from the scroll in front of her and nodded at the paper..

“Schematics,” she sighed.

“You…what are they schematics for?”

“You are welcome to examine them,” she muttered. She pushed them across the table and propped her head up in her hand.

I unrolled the scroll. Across the top of the parchment, in impossibly lurid calligraphy, were inscribed the words “THE RAKE.”

“’When only the most dashing armor will ‘derring-do’,” I read out loud. “What a terrible pun, whoever writes their copy should be shot–’THE RAKE promises fashion, flair, and protection where it counts.’“

I looked at the design–reasonably light armor concealed beneath a roguish, vaguely piratical jacket and breeches. I must admit, it _was_ fairly dashing. In the corner, she’d sketched a little picture of how to modify the armor to my usual outfit.

I couldn’t help but be impressed. It was tacky and horrible and I really loved it. She’s so odd and disconnected sometimes, and then she does something like…buy you an armor schematic called “THE RAKE.”

“This is for me?”  

“Indeed,” she sighed yet again.

I didn’t ask how much she’d paid for it because I’m reasonably sure that would have spoiled the present. Then again, it _was_ called “THE RAKE.” Better not to risk it, really.

“All right, Herald, you’ve convinced me!” I held my hands up, helpless to her persuasion. 

She blinked. 

“I was unaware that I–”

“I’ll do your shopping. The Inquisition can pay me back later.”

I have to admit, I was gratified to see her perk up instantly. It reminded me a bit of Merrill: despite being incredibly easy to make the woman happy, you got the impression that up until now, nobody had ever really bothered.

“Truly? That is excellent news. Cassandra really was put out by my error. And, you know,” she continued, rummaging through her pocket for a moment, and pulling out a lumpy pouch, “if it will help, I have this.”

I looked at the pouch suspiciously. I’ve seen some of the things she’s collected.

“What is it?” I asked, not touching the things.

“Some…stones, I think? Not of a good enough quality to inscribe runes upon, I’m afraid. And there might be six or seven necklaces and other gold items in there as well. I was never sure what to do with them. Oh, and a carving of a mabari. Someone Fereldan might want that,” she offered helpfully.

I scrubbed my hand across my face. “You just…you just hang onto that for now, Herald. I’ll take care of the rest of it.”

I did take care of it, but we were eating ham for a very long time after our trip to Val Royeaux.


End file.
